


Daughter of A Trickster

by FandomLoverAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Magic, Other, Post-Episode: s05e19 Hammer of the Gods, Trickster Gabriel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:56:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14304240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLoverAngel/pseuds/FandomLoverAngel
Summary: Celeste Grue is a normal 16 year old. Kind of.Ever since she was born, she's had a godfather, like most children. However, hers has some special perks. He's taught her everything she knows, and then some, until one day, he doesn't come back. She sets off to his last known location to find him, only to end up at a dead end.Follow her story here.A/N: SOrry I'm bad at summaries.





	Daughter of A Trickster

I have never had a normal life, not since I was born, but I don’t resent that. In fact, one might even say that I’m happy about it. It just means that I’m not just the same as everyone else. I have something that sets me apart. This is the story of why.

————————–

When I was born, some 16 odd years ago, my parents chose a godparent for me. Except, the name they chose, it was supposed to be a joke. Of course the God of Tricks, Chaos, and Lies would take it seriously.

My parents say that he just showed up on their doorstep, and requested to see me. Obviously concerned, they declined his request. But then he proved, probably by using magic, that he was my godfather, Loki. After that they were cautious, but okay with it, after all, it was their own doing. 

 

They were especially grateful once they saw how happy he made me, though they did set down some rules of what he could and couldn’t do or give me. He can’t give me too many sweets, only one every now and then. He can’t have me do ANYTHING illegal. And he can’t make me leave my parents using magic. So far, he’s held to his word. Which, seeing as he’s the God of Lies, is kind of surprising.

Even though he's a god, I would give my life for him in a heartbeat. I know he would do the same. We get into all kinds of trouble together, mostly harmless pranks. I think that we have pranked everyone in this town. Excluding the children, sick, and elderly. I deemed them off limits to both of us. I basically told him that if he harmed or pranked anyone in those the categories, his hair would not be blonde anymore. Permanently.

He hasn't touched any of them.

————————

We just finished a prank on the next door neighbor. She let her dog take a dump in our yard, in my mother’s garden. We made it so that every step she took, it would seem like she was stepping in dog stuff. She wasn’t really, we, I, just made her think that. He’s been teaching me all that he can think of about all kinds of subjects, and even gave me a few things of his. The first one was a sword, a long silver sword. He said it would grow with me, and would always fit perfectly in my hand. The other thing was even more special. He said it was a secret, and that it was making me more like a god, more like him. It hurt, but I hid it. I didn’t want to be seen as weak.

They’re beautiful. They’re a similar colour to his, but with a bit of red, silver, and blue. No, not like the flag, it’s a pale periwinkle blue, red like a currant, and pearl river silver. The colours that aren’t gold are only stretching from the base to the middle of some of the feathers, not all of them. (A/N: I’ll attempt to draw them and put up a picture for them.)

They don’t hurt anymore, he even taught me how to fly with them. Oh, by the way, if it wasn’t obvious, the thing he gave me, was wings. He showed me his, they’re a golden sunset colour. When he saw the colour of mine, he seemed kind of shocked, but quickly brushed it off and said they suited me.

————————

Loki hasn’t been back to see me in a few days. He usually visits every day or so. We’re getting ready to eat dinner. It’s spaghetti. I go to slide into my chair when I feel an intense stabbing pain in my chest, like someone is trying to carve my heart out. I fall to the floor, letting out a scream of agonizing pain. “AAAAAH! IT HURTS….” (A/N: I really don't know how to write vocal pain. Please help..)

I can barely hear my parents dropping dishes and rushing to my side over the sound of my own pain-filled screams.

“Sweetie! What's wrong? What hurts?” My mother asks me, feeling my head for a temperature.

“IT BURNS! IT HURTS SO MUCH!”

My father looks at my mother, “Go summon Loki, we need his help. Tell him that it's about Celeste.”

My mother hesitates when I start thrashing in pain. “Go! I'll hold her down so she doesn't hurt herself.”

She quickly runs out of the room. My father braces himself with his legs, grabbing my arms with his hands and putting his weight on my torso. “Celeste, please! You have to stop! You're going to hurt yourself!”

My mother runs back in. “Loki isn't responding, what should I do?”

“I don't know, she's starting to struggle less. I think I can let go now.”

“Be careful, honey.”

My father smiles a bit. “I know, pumpkin.”

He slowly moves his weight off of me, then his arms, letting go and quickly moving away. I roll back and forth a bit, arms crossed and grabbing at my chest and below my ribs. “It hurts so much…”

“Dear, what hurts? Can you tell us?”

I start to cry, silently. “It's my heart and my chest, it burns so much. I hurt so much. I want Loki… I need Loki...”

My parents look at each other. “Sweetie, I tried to contact him, but he didn’t respond. I’m sorry. We’re just going to have to wait.”

I groan. “I can’t… hurts too much… Loki… please come…”

————————

He doesn’t come. After a while, the pain seems to fade, or at least become less noticeable. I haven’t seen Loki in about a week and a half now. I’m kind of worried about him. This isn’t like him at all. He usually comes more often. I think something happened to him.

I start packing my bag as soon as I get home from school. I’m in 10th grade at high school. School is still in session. I’m going to talk it over with my parents, but even if they say no, I’m leaving anyway. I know about the fact that he’s a god, obviously, and he taught me all about the creatures of the night. I keep a book, even though I’ve never been on a hunt for them. When I was 7, I chose a red leather book with binder clips inside. (All rights belong to whoever’s book this is.)

I wrote down everything that Loki taught me, and then some. With the extra stuff, I would have him read over it and correct it in the case that I might be wrong. I guess he can’t do that now. I haven’t seen him in a while, and I can’t help but think, what if he never comes back?

I push those thoughts away, knowing that I shouldn't dwell on them. I know that he can always find me, so I'm safe to pack a bag and go. When he finally does come back, I will have him go and tell my parents that I'm fine. He, as I said earlier, goes off on trips often. They’re usually pretty short so, he doesn’t usually need to tell me where he’s off to for each and every time.

But, you know, the strange thing is, he did tell me where he was going this time. Some place called Elysian Fields Hotel, in Muncie, Indiana. I'm thinking about going to check it out, just to see if I could find him. I could try to find his magic, I guess. That's his blue-silver flowey stuff that I can see. Well, I have only been able to see it since I got the wings he gave me. But, that doesn’t matter, I have to find him. I have a really bad feeling about this.

————————

I grab my bags and sling them over my shoulder and onto my back, snagging an empty messenger bag for food. I turn around to look at my room for probably the last time for a really long while. Sighing, I shut the door to the room that has been my life for the past 16 years, now barren of my weapons, knicknacks, photos, and other things that made it me. Yes, he gave me weapons. Don’t tell my parents, but once in a blue moon, he would take me hunting. As in hunting monsters. He even showed me a cool way to get rid of them.

What he did, was teach me this weird ability that I have, because of the wings. However, like the wings, I can’t show it to anyone, not even my parents, unless it’s a dire emergency. He said I have to picture the blue flowy stuff around me and my wings zooming into my hand when I touch a monster. It’s really cool, even though I don’t like killing things. I still use it though, since it takes out monsters in a snap. Sometimes literally.

Getting back on topic, I walk down the hallway and into the living room and dining room, seeing my parents sitting on the couch watching TV. I quietly set my two bags down and flip open my messenger bag, walking carefully into the kitchen, grabbing anything that won’t expire for a while and doesn’t need to be refrigerated, and tossing it into my bag. I pause to grab a few of the mini cookbooks I made for travelling. They have all of the same recipes as the full size versions, but I just wrote it smaller so it could fit in a purse or suitcase. In this case, the set of 10 is going into my man-purse/messenger bag.

I cross over to the other counter where a long, lined notepad for grocery lists rests, a cup of pencils and pens sitting to the right of it. I grab a green pen, clicking it to write a note for my parents to find.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_  
_Don’t think that I’m abandoning you, since I’m not._  
_Something has come up that needs my attention._  
_Sorry for not telling you this in person._  
_I was going to, but I realized that you would be against the idea, so I decided on a note._  
_I’m going to find Loki._  
_When I do, I’ll have him take me back home._  
_I don’t know how long it will take to find him._  
_I’m going to promise you something._  
_I will come back and visit if I can’t find him quickly._  
_You know how much he means to me._  
_You can still email me, so please set up an online school if you must._  
_We both know that Loki taught me all I need to know to graduate, and more by the time I was 8._  
_I will keep in touch, if I can._  
_Stay safe, I love you._

_Celeste_  
_P.S. Don’t look for me. Please. It’s not worth it._

I set the pen down across the notepad diagonally. Hopefully, by the time they read it, I’ll be long gone, on my way to Muncie. I quietly pick up my bags and head to the back door. In the backyard, I go up to the eight foot tall chain link fence that surrounds my backyard and climb up it, all three of my bags slung across me over top of my jacket, since it’s still a bit chilly on some days, even at the end of April. It’s because of the rain.

I carefully swing my full body over the fence and jump down as silently as possible, pausing to listen for my parents hearing me. After a few seconds of no noise, I stand up completely and start walking towards the highway, which is a few miles from my house, just out of town. After an hour or two, since I’m laden with bags, I reach the on ramp for the highway. Which is great! Except for the fact that it’s the northbound ramp. And the southbound ramp is across 6 lanes of traffic.

Hey, at least it’s still light out. It’s only 4-ish. I stop in the grass and set my bags down, stacking them into a chair to lean against. I only pause for a few minutes, since I know that my parents will at least be looking for me in the surrounding towns, even if I do trust them to wait a bit before they go to the police. That means that I have about 1 day to get far enough away to not be easily found.

The cars driving by the strip of grass where I’m resting remind me that I need to keep moving. I pull my load of bags onto my body, making sure they’re secure for my sprint across traffic. As the sounds of vehicles grow distant, I look both ways before quickly sprinting over the first three lanes. Stopping briefly in the meridian, I sprint across the last three lanes, barely arriving on the other side in time. 

With laboured breathing, I start to walk down the ramp, sticking out my thumb in the classic hitchhiking sign. For the first hour, no one stops. And the second hour. And the third. In fact, it’s eight PM by the time anyone stops for me.


End file.
